


Irreplaceable

by Irishgrlnextdoor



Series: Halloween Bats [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Horror, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Ghosts, Horror, Imaginary Friends, Jason Todd died, Poor Tim Drake, Possession, Sibling Violence, Talking To Dead People, biological son Jason todd, biological son damian wayne, biological son dick grayson, de-aged batboys, younger batboys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:49:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26960929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Irishgrlnextdoor/pseuds/Irishgrlnextdoor
Summary: There's nothing normal about Damian's imaginary friend. Starting with the fact that Damian has named his imaginary friend after his deceased brother, Jason.non-graphic, no blood or gore.Happy Early Halloween work #2
Relationships: Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne
Series: Halloween Bats [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1954837
Comments: 23
Kudos: 135





	Irreplaceable

**Author's Note:**

> Some changes for this short horror-au, no capes! The boys are all much younger, with Dick, Jason, and Damian being Bruce's biological children. Tim is adopted in. Jason was not killed by the Joker in this, but he did die young of unmentioned causes.

An imaginary friend is supposed to be something cute, something charming in the way of childish fantasy.

They were so common that Bruce himself had had one as a child, and he could recall his eldest son, Dick, making up a few of his own before he eventually obtained two younger siblings to play with instead.

That was the thing, however, his own imaginary friends and the ones Dick used to have had been _entirely_ made up. They had been summoned up at will to just fill some boredom, and they had equally made up ridiculous names like ‘Froggy’ and ‘Mr. Popcorn’. They eventually had gone away as abruptly as they had come.

That was the norm of things.

There had been nothing about Damian’s imaginary friend, however, that had fallen into the realm of normal. Damian’s imaginary friend hadn’t gone away with the addition of a brother, but instead that was when it had shown up, almost immediately upon the addition of newly-orphaned Tim Drake into the Wayne family. They had not been something he had used to fill periods of boredom or loneliness, but instead had seemed to be used more as a patsy for blaming bad behaviors upon. The hardest difference to take in, however, had been the fact that Damian’s imaginary friend hadn’t been someone he had made up entirely from nothing. No, his imaginary friend had been conjured up as none other than his deceased older brother, Jason, who had been taken from this world as a mere child of 14, just months before Tim had experienced his own family tragedy.

The first mention of this imaginary friend had taken place a few months ago when Damian had first asked Alfred to set an extra spot at the table for Jason to join them. He had indicated an empty seat next to himself as if someone had already been sat there.

There had been such a chilled silence that had settled into the room that the ice cubes in their drinks had seemed redundant. Bruce had tried hard to school himself before speaking, voice still strained around the edges as he had patiently asked Damian not to name any imaginary friends after his deceased older brother.

Being around six years old himself, Damian had pouted and insisted that he hadn’t, that that was what his imaginary friend had told him to call him. Bruce had shushed him and firmly repeated his request before moving dinner along.

That was where it should have ended.

But it didn’t.

It got worse, particularly in Damian’s ill behavior towards Tim. Bruce’s youngest had started up with small annoyances, calling the older boy mean names, or saying hateful things. Bruce and Dick both had found themselves going between the two boys, mindful that both had been traumatized by loss in their own right. Their comforts had done little to assuage Tim, who had been struggling to adjust to his new home from the word go, understandably.

Confronting Damian about his ill behavior had come with a vastly different challenge, as the youngest had always just blamed Jason for whatever bad thing he had said to the boy.

“Jason told me to say it. Jason hates Tim. I don’t like him either, but Jason really hates him, Father. Get rid of him.”

Bruce had been so caught off guard by this the first time, pain ballooning up inside of him at just the mention of his lost child, that he had retreated like a coward from his youngest son, and had tried instead to ask Damian’s school counselors to merely speak to him about the ‘sibling rivalry’ Damian seemed to be feeling towards Tim.

It helped nothing.

It had again gotten worse.

The first instance of a physical incident had occurred one afternoon when Dick and Tim had been playing together. Bruce’s eldest boy had finally been able to draw the other out his shell after weeks of playful pestering. He had gotten Tim to indulge him in a little bit of horseplay, and they had been chasing each other between the family room and the grand parlor. Normally Bruce wouldn’t have allowed for such rowdiness indoors, but the exception had been made just for Tim to finally be interacting, finally smiling.

Then they had rounded the chair that Damian had been sitting in, and Damian had stuck out his foot just in time to trip Tim up, and the boy had lost his balance at just the wrong time to go crashing into the glass coffee table.

The glass had of course shattered. Bruce had jumped up from where he had been sitting in one of the other chairs to carefully gather the shaken boy up out of the mess of broken glass. He had had cuts in a few spots, one that had needed a few stitches on his leg, but that had been the worse of the physical damage. Tim had been very understandably upset and frightened by what had just happened to him, and Bruce’s heart broke as the lad had tried not to show his tears. Tim had resolutely refused to so much as look in Damian’s direction.

Dick hadn’t been about to let the youngest off half so easily. “Dami, why would you do that? Do you have any idea how you could have hurt Tim with such a stunt?”

“Jason told me to do it,” the boy had snapped back, scowling up without any remorse from his chair.

“Damian,” Dick had sighed, exasperated because he too had heard this one before. “Jason wouldn’t want you to hurt Tim. Jason was a good brother, and he would be a good brother to Tim too if he was here. You can’t keep blaming him for-

Damian had flinched and covered his ears as if Dick had been shouting at him, eyes and face scrunching up in frustration and pain. “Jason tells me that _I’m_ a good brother, his _best_ brother. I’m the only one that talks to him, or sees him. He told me that Tim is a replacement for him, and you and father don’t see Jason because you only have eyes for Tim now. Jason hates Tim! I hate Tim! I want Tim gone!” Damian had been screaming by the end, and Tim had broken down sobbing in Bruce’s arms.

Bruce hadn’t been sure what to do about that at the time. He had tried to first see to Tim’s care to start with, assuring him that nothing Damian had said was true, tried to explain to him how with Damian being so young he had been having a hard time accepting the death of his elder sibling, and had tried to encourage Tim that he would come around eventually. Tim hadn’t said a word of belief or doubt, but he had looked doubtful. Worse, he had looked nearly defeated.

Bruce had gone back to speak with his youngest later that night, but had stopped outside of Damian’s door because he had heard the boy speaking to someone inside. His first thought had been that Dick had been in there with him, but it became apparent that that wasn’t the case.

“You’re making Father mad at me. I’m not going to do what you tell me to anymore. Even Richard is unhappy with me.”

Silence.

Bruce had pressed his ear harder against the door.

“Of course I don’t like Drake better than you- No, it’s not like that. I don’t want him to replace you either. I don’t know what to do to get rid of Drake though. I- what do you mean someone’s at the door?”

Bruce had jumped a little at having been caught onto, but had summoned up his control of himself to knock on Damian’s door with astute calmness despite the tight ball of lead that had formed in his stomach. Without waiting for expressed permission, he had opened the door to find Damian sitting upon the edge of his bed, but there had been no one else in the room with him at the time.

“Damian, were you speaking to someone just now?” Bruce had inquired, still looking about the room in suspicion despite what he had heard Damian saying.

“Tt, like you would even care. Ignore him, Jason. Just like he always ignores you,” Damian had snitted in a fit, turning over on his bed to give Bruce his back, and then he had clammed up entirely until Bruce had been forced to retreat from the room, but only after he had informed his youngest that he would be starting proper therapy just as soon as Bruce could arrange for it.

Looking back on that moment now, Bruce wondered at all the other paths he should have taken, or could have explored. Any paths at all that might have led them to any different outcome, one where things hadn’t gotten even worse. Some outcome where Tim wasn’t left fighting for his life.

As it was, Bruce found himself in the hospital, staring down in the same shocked fog that had persisted ever since he had plucked Tim’s little body up off the ground and rushed him to the car. The poor boy had been pushed out a window, falling two whole stories before hitting the grass below. He was finally in stable condition, but it had been in question for a while there as the doctors rushed to try to bring down the swelling in his brain from the hit it had taken.

Being with Tim now, watching him take in every breath like it might be his last regardless of what the doctors were assessing at this point… it should have been too hard to bear. After all, the last time Bruce had found himself standing over the hospital bed of one of his sons…

But instead this place was where he was hiding, easier than being around the rest of his family. What Damian kept saying-

What Dick had told Bruce he had seen-

Because Dick had been there when it had happened, when Damian had pushed Tim out of the window. But that wasn’t what Damian was claiming happened. Of course not. Damian had cried and protested Bruce’s refusal to look at him the entire time they had been in the waiting room- preparing to find out if Tim would survive or not- insisting that it hadn’t been his fault. Damian had insisted instead that Jason had been the one that had pushed Tim. Dick had been no help, for once, because he had sat there for a long time, silent and unnaturally pale-faced. Only when Bruce had finally snapped, finally bellowed at Damian to stop it, to stop lying and using his dead brother to hurt Tim and Bruce both in this way that Dick had finally spoke up with a broken, “H-he’s telling the truth, B. He didn’t touch Tim. Something… s-someone else grabbed Tim and hurled him across the room and out of the window. I couldn’t see who but I think it was- I think it was Ja-

Bruce had stormed off from them both, because he just didn’t know what else to do. The tightness in his own chest had felt on track to take him out too if he didn’t just go, just get away. He didn’t even know where he had gone. He had stumbled down halls and corridors without end until eventually a nurse had recognized his haggard face and called his name, letting him know the good news that Tim was expected to live and had been moved out of critical care. He had followed her on numb legs and hadn’t moved from Tim’s bedside since she had excused herself.

Tim was so small, black hair slick against his brow. Bruce reached out to brush it back, noting how soft it was. Jason’s hair had always been soft too, but his had curled where Tim’s was straight. Just when Bruce found himself absently wondering if Jason’s would have been as long as Tim’s if it had been pulled straight, Tim surprised him by slowly opening his eyes.

Bruce didn’t jump, but he did fall still in a moment of surprise before he could catch himself, putting a hand over his already thoroughly tested heart as he tried to calm it back down again as deep relief rushed through him “Tim… thank goodness! The doctors said you-

“I hate you,” Tim whispered.

Bruce fell still, confused if he had just heard correctly or not. “I… what did you-

“I hate you,” Tim repeated, more clearly this time, devoid of any of the emotion that should have been there. His voice was as flat and far away as his stare as his blue eyes continued to stare up at the ceiling rather than at Bruce. “You replaced me. Forgot about me. Six months… and you never came to see me. Just left me alone in the cold.”

Bruce’s heart was no longer calming. The opposite now. Nothing about what was being said to him felt like Tim. It didn’t even feel like Tim was in the room right now. One moment there, and now gone. Instead it felt more like-

It wasn’t possible.

Before he could even think to respond in some way, Tim’s mouth was moving once more, that same flat voice delivering more cruel accusations. “I hate you, old man. But I hate even more the feeling of being forgotten. Of being replaced. You won’t have your replacement any more though. He’s mine now.”

Bruce felt himself shaking, but he couldn’t understand why. He couldn’t grasp what was happening right before his eyes.

“J-Jason?” He covered his own mouth with his hand the moment the name left him, it was the shameful proof that he had finally lost his mind to his own grief.

Those eyes slowly slid over to find him, although nothing else about the boy’s body moved. As soon as that cold stare landed upon Bruce, he flinched back, just a little. Tim’s eyes were blue, but the shade of blue looking at him now… those were the bright blue eyes of Jason.

Weren’t they? He didn’t know. He didn’t know anymore. His mind and his spirit both were beyond tested and tired at this point, and his every heartbeat felt painful in his chest. His own eyes played tricks upon him, seeing the curve of Jason’s jaw one moment and then Tim’s the next, seeing a bit of curl to those raven locks before they would appear straight once more. Like a reflection being muddled and warped in the ripples of a disturbed pond. Those eyes, however, didn’t waver back and forth like the rest seemed to.

“He’s mine now,” that flat voice repeated again, and then those bright eyes turned back up to the ceiling before closing once more.

X

“The boys really seem to be getting along well together,” Ms. Potterson remarked with a pleased smile from over her clipboard, watching the way the three of them played in the yard.

Bruce nodded along from where they stood side by side on the back patio overlooking the sprawling estate grounds. Indeed, it was clear that the three boys were having an absolute ball together, Tim running along after both Dick and Damian in a game of tag. Really it was more like hobbling, even months out of recovery for the fall. It was a vast improvement over the cast he had been restricted to up until just a month ago. While he could run fine in short bursts, they had been playing for a while now and he would need to take a break soon. Bruce bit his lip in worry as he tried to give them a few more minutes before calling them all back in.

He needed to anyway, Ms. Potterson was here as Tim’s social worker after all, and he was supposed to be meeting with her every month. Bruce had admitted to the doctors that Tim had been pushed from the window by his brother, and it had correctly resulted in a social worker being assigned to follow up on how well Tim was actually acclimating into the family. The improvements in that time, however, had been swift and vast.

Damian laughed until he was red-faced when he dodged just out of the reach of Tim, who was distracted long enough for Dick to run up behind and give a teasingly light push to the boy’s back before running away again, also laughing joyously.

Tim was laughing too, harder than anyone, but he began to faulter a little more on his leg, and Bruce decided a break was needed. “Boys, take five. Alfred was making some lemonade in the kitchen. Go ask him for some. Tim, Mrs. Potterson is here to see you, come say hi quick.”

Panting with fatigue, cheeks red and hair plastered with sweat, all three turned and headed back across the grounds. Tim broke away from the other two as they reached the patio, Dick promising to bring out glasses for everyone as he and Damian headed inside to give them some privacy.

“Hello again, Ms. Potterson,” Tim greeted the social worker with a light smile, still panting as he tried to catch his breath.

The social worker smiled back even brighter as she returned his greeting. “Always a pleasure, Timothy. I’m just doing the normal check in, as you know. Your recovery seems to be going well. You’re just full of life today!”

Tim grinned at that. “Yes Ma’am, today and everyday.”

“And your relationships seem to be flourishing here. So much so that I might be able to end these appointments before too long. I don’t think there’s any more worry of any repeated accidents from the look of things. But tell me, do you feel you’re getting along well with Bruce’s children nowadays?”

Tim’s smile softened once more and he nodded his head agreeably, shining with politeness and respect as he answered the woman. “Absolutely Ma’am, they’re like brothers to me.”

“Damian too?” She asked, tone far more careful because of the potential landmine she could be stepping into.

“Especially Damian,” Tim assured her, something in his smile softening even more.

She hummed in approval, “Well, I’m very happy to hear it. And Bruce? How would you describe your relationship with him?”

Bruce tried to fall back under such a question, uncomfortable with all of this, but not knowing what to do about any of it. For months now he hadn’t known what to do, how to feel.

Tim’s smile stayed, however, and he turned it up towards him. “Oh Bruce? What can I say about the old man? He’s going to have a hard time ever getting rid of me, that’s for sure!” Tim laughed.

The social worker laughed too, sharing in the joke.

She thought she did anyway.

Bruce didn’t laugh, because he actually did share in it. Everyday for him, the joke persisted, as comical as it was cruel. That laughter ringing out of the young boy wasn’t his own. It was too loud, too brash. Too familiar, pulled from a past-life. When he stopped laughing long enough to meet Bruce’s stare once more, those eyes were too blue, and the softness was gone from his smile.

“Yes Ma’am,” the boy continued to chuckle. “He’s mine now.”

**Author's Note:**

> subscribe to my author page for updates on more chilling or fun short halloween stories to come for the month of October, thank you!


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